


some day, some way

by twohourstraffic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Drunkenness, First Meetings, Gen, Kid Fic, Multimedia, Neighbors, Pre-Canon, Radio, Recreational Drug Use, limited knowledge of the amish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohourstraffic/pseuds/twohourstraffic
Summary: I want her / And I need her / And some day, some way, I'll meet her.Five ways that Shitty and Lardo might have met and the one way that they actually did.





	1. delta nu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter is inspired by a College AU prompt. 
> 
> First chapter - “mutual drunk friend called BOTH of us to pick them up from a party well this is awkward” AU

It’s 10pm on a quiet September night at the Haus. Shitty lies on the grass in the backyard, trying to find constellations through the light pollution of a college campus. A cloud of smoke floats lazily above his head, the thick smell of pot hanging in the air.

“That stuff is going to fry your brain,” Jack says with a kick to Shitty’s ankle. He’s on his stomach with a textbook, ever unable to let his mind still.

“No, it’s not. Doctors prescribe it to reduce nausea.”

“Doctors prescribed thalidomide to reduce nausea.”

“Oh, for fuck’s – It’s fine,” Shitty argues for the thousandth time. “It’s safe. People have been using it since, like, 3000 BC. I’m sure the Trojans knew what they were doing.”

“The Trojans all died, Shits.”

“They didn’t die of pot, _Jack_.”

Jack snorts and shuts his textbook, rolling onto his back to watch the stars. “Just take care of yourself, dude.”

Shitty smiles. “I always do, bud. This keeps me centered.”

“Whatever works.”

“That’s what I say, brother.”

They lie quietly for a minute, the silence only broken by the bass line coming from some frat party down the road, before Shitty’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and grins when he sees the name.

“Zoe Knight, you owe me a coffee. That was the deal, remember? I carry your metric fuckton of boxes and you pay me with your time.” Zoe, two years younger than him and sharp as a tack, has always been one of his favorite cousins. Her getting into Samwell had been one of the high points of his freshman year. She was two weeks into her first semester and loving it.

“Shitty, I think …” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I had beer. Lots of beer. And now I can’t … I can’t find the door. I think I’m upstairs but maybe I’m downstairs?”

He snorts. “Zo, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“Some frat was having a party and Raquel made me come and I had so many drinks and now I’m upstairs or downstairs. But maybe upstairs. There was people kissing. And my head feels weird. Like it’s in a fishbowl. Also I walked into a door and it hurt. It wasn’t there before, but then it was.”

Shitty suppresses a giggle. “Zoe, honey, you’re OK. You’re fine, you’ve just had too much to drink. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

“I think I’m at Delta Nu.”

He tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Delta Nu’s from Legally Blonde, babe.”

“Oh.” There’s a moment before he can hear her asking someone else. “OK, that guy says Kappa Sig, but also he has a really gross haircut so he probably doesn’t know.”

Shitty shakes his head fondly. “That’s just down the road from us, honey. I’ll be there in a minute, OK? Just hold tight. Try and find the front door if you can.”

He hangs up and turns to Jack, who has been following the conversation closely. “Wanna come save my baby cousin from Kappa Sig?”

Jack springs up. “Wait, is she OK?”

Shitty smiles. “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just drunk. Let’s just go grab her and she can sleep in my bed tonight.”

They pull on their runners, abandoned in the grass, and make their way down the side of the house to Jason Street. It’s not hard to guess which house Zoe is in – they’ve been trying to ignore the terrible music all evening.

Jack gets to the front steps and stops. Shitty can see him bracing himself before he steps onto the first stair, and decides to intervene. “Jack, it’s fine. Just wait here – I’ll grab her and come back out, OK?”

Jack looks like he wants to disagree for about ten seconds but one raised eyebrow from Shitty changes his mind. “Yeah. Thanks, bud.”

“Don’t mention it, dude.”

Shitty runs up the steps and into the house, eyes peeled for his cousin. She’s short with dark hair, like every other freshman, but then he sees her sitting on the staircase, head rested against the bannister.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Shitty!” She jumps to her feet, immediately swaying where she stands. “I was here with Raquel but now I can’t find her. I think she’s playing beer pong but I can’t find it. It’s the one with the table and the people and the beer.”

Shitty smiles at her, holding out his arms. She collapses into the hug, and he braces to compensate for her weight. “Thanks for calling me, honey. Let’s get you home, OK?”

Zoe refuses to let go, snuggling into his shoulder, so he sighs and hauls her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist and sighs as he begins to make his way back down the stairs and out of the house.

“You comfy, kid?”

She hums happily. “I think I’m going to sleep here, OK?”

“Let’s get you back to the Haus, Zo. You can sleep in a minute.”

Shitty feels her pull a face against his shoulder. “I can sleep here and also in a minute.”

He meets up with Jack outside and they slowly walk down the path, trying not to jostle Zoe who is honestly about ten seconds away from sleep.

That is, until a short girl with a massive backpack runs off the street and stops in front of them, blocking their path. Shitty tries to walk around her, but she steps in front of him furiously.

“Can we help you?” Shitty asks, confused.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re taking her?”

“Excuse me?”

The girl stands up as straight as she can, but she can’t be much more than five feet tall. Shitty has to admire her guts, as irritating as she’s being.

“That’s my friend, Zoe,” she says, speaking slowly like she thinks he’s stupid. “She phoned twenty minutes ago and asked me to come get her, but I was at the art school so I had to lock up first.”

Zoe turns her head towards the commotion and her eyes light up. “Larissa!”

“Hi, honey,” Larissa says. “You OK?”

“I’m fine. I’m good. I’m a-OK coolio beans.” Zoe giggles at herself. “He’s Shitty.”

Larissa looks like she’s trying to stop herself from reaching up and pulling Zoe out of Shitty’s arms. “If he’s so shitty, you don’t want him around, babe.”

Zoe laughs so hard that Shitty almost drops her. “No, no, no, no no no. It’s his name. His name is Shitty.”

“Why the fuck is your name Shitty?” Larissa asks him seriously.

“Ask my fucking parents, kid. Now, can we get past?”

Larissa holds out a hand, stopping them. “Your parents named you Shitty?”

“No, but they may as well have.”

Zoe snorts happily from her perch on Shitty’s waist. “My mom says that naming a kid Byron is the meanest thing you can do and that my uncle is an evil man but also –”

“Byron?” Jack shrieks. “All I had to do to find out your name was to get your cousin drunk?”

Shitty fakes dropping Zoe and she screams, grabbing him tighter around his neck. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he threatens.

“Good luck, dude,” she giggles, settling her head into the crook of his shoulder again. “Bed time now, please?”

Larissa looks torn. “Can I come with you? I want to make sure she’s OK.”

Shitty sighs so Jack butts in. “Of course you can, Larissa. I’m Jack. We’re on the hockey team so we just live down the road.”

They start to walk away from Kappa Sig and back towards the Haus, Zoe snoring lightly. Jack looks lost in thought, deep breathing slowly. Shitty, walking next to Larissa, bumps her with his hip. “Did you really think I was going to He-Man her out of there and have my wicked way with her?”

Larissa stares at him seriously. “Stranger things have happened.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I guess you’re right.”

“Anyway, it’s just weird when your friend calls you and asks you to come get her and then she’s being carried out the door by some muscly dude with a moustache.”

He laughs loudly and Zoe groans in protest. He strokes her back gently. “You’re OK, sweetheart. Two more minutes, alright? We’re almost there.”

If he’d been looking, Shitty wouldn’t have missed the way that Larissa’s eyes soften.

He carts Zoe up the stairs and heaves her onto his bed, rubbing his biceps with a groan. “Thank fuck we don’t have practice tomorrow. These muscles are going to need some recovery time.”

Larissa shoots him a pointed look and kneels down to pull Zoe’s shoes off. She’s easing back the covers when Shitty leaves to grab a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. When he gets back, he stops in the doorway to see Larissa crouching next to the bed, talking to a half-awake Zoe.

“– so embarrassing, oh my God. Did you see his friend? He’s sooooo pretty. And I feel so gross. Getting drunk is amazing but also it sucks.”

Larissa laughs, kissing Zoe lightly on the forehead. “Sleep well, idiot. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Bathroom’s just through there,” Shitty says quietly, pointing at the dark doorway. “And try to drink some of this, OK?” He puts the Gatorade on his bedside table, then walks back to the door. “I’ll be on the floor in Jack’s room if you need me. It’s just on the other side of the bathroom.”

He walks out of the room and Larissa follows, leaving the door cracked open so that some light can get in. They walk down the stairs and he makes his way into the kitchen, passing a beer to Larissa before grabbing one for himself.

“I should probably go,” Larissa says slowly.

“Dude, whatever you want to do. But feel free to stay – we’re just chilling out back.”

He pulls another Gatorade out of the fridge for Jack and gestures towards the back door. She shrugs and walks out before him, to where Jack is lying in the grass, lazily highlighting his textbook. She sits down, back against the porch and cross-legged, and takes a long pull of her beer.

Shitty would never admit it, but he falls a little bit in love.


	2. re: application for barista position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “your email address is one letter different from my friend’s so i keep emailing you by mistake” AU

**From:** Larissa Duan  <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** bknight@samwell.edu  
**Subject:** Application for barista position  
**Attached:** CV Larissa Duan.pdf

Hi Bea,

My name is Larissa Duan and I’m a freshman here at Samwell. I’m writing to apply for the barista position you advertised in the Samwell Jobs Facebook group.

I worked at Starbucks for three years (don’t hold that against me!) so I’m very familiar with running coffee machines, making complicated drink orders etc. My schedule is pretty flexible – I’m an art major so we’ve got lots of studio time.

I’ve attached my CV for your reference. My contact details are on there if you need to clarify anything.

Thanks!  
Larissa

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Hi Larissa,

I think you’ve got the wrong email address. Unless you’re trying to contact me, and then you’ve got the right one!!!!!!

But I don’t think that’s the case.

Maybe double check the Facebook post? I wouldn’t want to keep you from your dreams of employment and also being a barista.

I haven’t attached my CV because I feel like it wouldn’t help you with anything. LMK if you want it anyway. It’s a total downer so it would probably boost your ego.

Byeeeeeeeeeeee

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Sup.

Thanks for letting me know that I’d emailed completely the wrong person.

Bea edited the Facebook post because she’d put the wrong email address in. Confusion solved. I’ve got an interview on Thursday.

Thought you’d want to know.

Peace.

PS. Why is your contact name just ‘B’?

PPS. PLEASE TELL ME YOUR NAME IS THE LETTER B. That’d be sweet.

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Hey grl hey.

Congrats on the interview! Somehow I knew you had it in you!!!

Must have been the incredibly impressive CV.

PS. My name is not the letter B. But my name is a joke and I’d rather it was the letter B.

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

We’re coming back to the name thing. Also, are you saying you read my CV???!???!?!??!

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

You sent me your CV!!!!

What was I supposed to do, not read it? That would have been so rude.

Anyway, Boston reppin.

I saw you worked at the Starbucks near the library. That’s pretty chill.

A friend of mine used to work there in the summers. This is gonna sound ridiculous but do you know Dave Byrne? The most ridiculous fuckin hair but a good dude. We went to school together.

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

DO I KNOW DAVE.

Yes I know Dave. And Dave knows you! (i think)

I asked him whether he knew a B Knight and his response was “wait do you mean shitty yah he’s a good egg”

Do I mean ‘shitty’? Why are you shitty? Is your name Shitty?

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Hi Larissa, I’m Shitty. Nice to meet you properly.

Once upon a time on my first day of high school, someone asked what my name was and I said “It’s shitty” because I fuckin HATE MY NAME and they were like “oh ok that’s chill” and now that’s my name.

I mean, it’s not like my parents/grandparents use it but basically everyone else does. My lecturers tend to go with Mr Knight because it’s safer. And less likely to cause offence.

Anyway, that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Are you saying you’re everyone’s enemy?

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Ummmmmmmm no

Not that I’m aware of?

Although I’ve been accused of ‘trying to fight the world’ which seems like it could be the same thing.

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

_'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague._

**From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Oh my God.

YOU MADE A SHAKESPEARE JOKE.

AND IT WENT RIGHT OVER MY FUCKIN HEAD.

I love you a little bit.

How was your interview btw????? Can you be found around campus slingin cups of joe or whatever it is baristas do?

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

SLINGING CUPS OF JOE

That’s me, just slinging away.

I got the job! The hours are a bit shit and the pay isn’t great but there aren’t that many jobs going a month into semester.

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

I might know of something, actually.

Am I allowed to pass your CV onto someone?

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

What’s the job?

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Managing a sports team?

I mean, I know it’s out of your wheelhouse but you managed that Starbucks and stuff.

Just a thought. Let me know if I’m overstepping.

**From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

What have I got to lose?

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Wait, what team?

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

SMH?

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

You’re going to need to translate for me, friend.

**From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Samwell Men’s Hockey.

**From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

ARE YOU A HOCKEY PLAYER

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Maybe.

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: Application for barista position

Sure. Pass it on.

Thanks, bud.

 

* * *

 

 **From:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>  
**To:** Samwell Men’s Hockey <smh@group.samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** Schedule for roadie  
**Attachment:** <scheduleoct14.pdf>

Hi guys,

My name’s Larissa and I’m your new manager. Shape up or ship out.

Hahahahaha.

Anyway, please see **attached** the schedule for the first roadie of the year! Be on that bus or we’re leaving without you.

Let me know if you have any questions. I’m now your reference point for all logistical issues.

Thanks,  
Larissa

 

 **From:** B Knight <bknight@samwell.edu>   
**To:** Larissa Duan <lduan@samwell.edu>   
**Subject:** RE: Schedule for roadie

Welcome to the team, dude.


	3. wjzd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you work for the campus radio station and keep passively aggressively dedicating songs to me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following prompts? I hate the word. Just as I hate hell, all Montagues and thee. #shakespearelife

“This is Sara and you’re listening to WJZD, the Samwell University radio station. It’s 10:28 on a gorgeous Wednesday evening. Coming up, we’ve got a bit of everything – some Spice Girls, some Panic At The Disco, some Counting Crows. Everything you’re going to need for that late-night study sesh for that Macro quiz you forgot about. But first, here’s _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ , because why not at this point.”

Sara sets up the song, turns off her mic and pulls off her headphones. “How was that?”

From across the room, Larissa gives a half-hearted thumbs up without looking up from her phone.

Sara pouts. “Fuck you too.”

“What do you want me to say, bud? It was excellent. Inspiring. I hope everyone’s enjoying it.”

Sara clambers out of her seat and crosses to Larissa, sitting indelicately in her lap and kissing her with a laugh. Larissa snorts and happily kisses her back, shoving her cell into her pocket.

They’ve been casually hooking up for a few weeks now, but Larissa can tell that it’s not going to become anything. That doesn’t mean that they’re not having fun while it lasts. Or that Sara's job at the radio station doesn’t provide an excellent place to go when the walls of her dorm room are closing in. Not too quiet, but not too many people. Larissa’s taking advantage of it while she can.

“Wait, how long is this song?”

Sara snorts. “Literally seven minutes. We’ve got time.”

Lardo grins and winds her hands into Sara’s hair, pulling her closer.

By the time Bonnie Tyler is wrapping up, Sara is back behind her mic, Larissa sitting in her lap and trying not to laugh. Sara shushes her with a smile, then pulls on her headphones.

“OK, folks, that was Bonnie Tyler with the ever-classic _Total Eclipse of the Heart_. Covered by Westlife, I’m pretty sure. But then again, why would you want a cover when you could have the real thing? Unless it’s their cover of _Uptown Girl_ , which is a total banger.”

Larissa bites her lip and tries to think of sad things. But not too sad. The cafeteria running out of hash browns. Coffee without sugar. Wet socks.

“Speaking of bangers,” Sara is continuing, because she’s a professional. “Let’s move it on up to _FNT_ by Semisonic. Made famous in the movie _10 Things I Hate About You_ , of course, but the band’s best-known song is probably _Closing Time_. Which Weird Al covered. It’s a small world, full of covers.”

Lardo lets out a honking laugh which Sara does her best to ignore. “Anyway, enough music trivia. Although that could be a fun corner. Here’s Semisonic.”

Sara presses a few buttons, then turns to Larissa. “I’m going to need you to shut your gorgeous mouth,” she says with what almost passes for a frown. “My boss is going to freak if he finds out that you’re just chilling in here.”

“Sorry, hon.”

“You should be!”

Larissa cranes her neck until they’re kissing again, grinning cheekily as Sara tries to look disapproving. Then Sara pulls out her cell to check the time and stills. “Oh, _fuck_. I’m selling a textbook to this dude from the hockey team and he’s outside.”

“OK. How long’s this song? Just tell him to wait.”

“Um … 3.30. Fuck.”

“I’m pretty sure he can wait two minutes.”

Sara rereads the text and groans. “He texted ten minutes ago. Fuck. And he’s in a rush. I guess I can run out to him quickly.”

Larissa jumps up. “OK, then go! Quick!”

Sara reaches into her bag, grabs the textbook and sprints out of the room.

Larissa checks the monitor and tries to keep breathing. There’s 2.15 left in the song. It’s going to be fine.

1.45.

1.15.

0.45.

She’s starting to panic.

0.15.

 _Fuck_.

The song is about to end and Sara isn’t back.

She’s seen Sara do this enough times, so she sighs, picks up the headphones and presses the button that turns on the microphone.

“Um … Hi, guys. This is Larissa. Sara has just had to step out for a second because some guy couldn’t wait two minutes to get his textbook, so … you’ve got me. Yay.”

Sara is nowhere to be seen.

“I guess I could play a song. Hopefully I don’t mess it up. OK, so … This goes out to the guy who has pulled Sara away from her desk and her job and all of you beautiful people.”

She’s frantically scrolling on the computer, trying to find the song in the station’s database.

“To continue the theme of playing bangers, here’s _Teenage Dirtbag_. And to Textbook Guy, whoever you are, don’t be a dirtbag. Please and thank you.”

She manages to get the song playing and pulls off the headphones, shaking slightly. If Sara doesn’t get back in the next four minutes, she’s going to have to talk again and choose another song and she’s honestly not sure that she can handle the stress.

Three and a half minutes pass.

She takes a deep breath.

“Hi guys, still Larissa. Sara has been temporarily waylaid. I’m honestly not sure where she is but hopefully she hasn’t been eaten by a bear or something. Seems unlikely, in Massachusetts, but all things are possible under Jesus.”

She winces at herself and continues.

“So, considering the time of day, you guys probably just want some study tunes. You don’t need me to entertain you with my wit. Given that, I’m just going to … give you another song. Yeah. And … um … That song is going to be …”

This radio shit is harder than Larissa had realized. Only made harder by the fact that, as a senior, Sara works unsupervised and without a playlist. After three years, she’s earned enough trust to do whatever she wants. Great for Sara, fucking impossible for Larissa.

“So …” She knows she’s going off on a tangent, but she literally can’t think of anything else to say and the seconds of silence are ticking by. “This is another one for Textbook Boy. It’s a bit of a classic. Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the queen of soul, Aretha.”

 _Respect_ comes through the speakers. Larissa immediately recognizes that this is a terrible decision – the fucking song is only two and a half minutes long.

And Sara has, apparently, disappeared off the face of the planet.

Before she knows it, the song is over.

“Hi, again,” Larissa says into the microphone, trying not to stumble over her thoughts. “Still me. Which is _so_ fun. I think Sara has actually been eaten by a bear, which means that it’s just us. Having a lovely time. On this Wednesday where we all know what we’re doing. Yay, college.”

She pauses for a minute. “Or then again, maybe Sara’s been eaten by a right whale. They’re the state marine mammal of Massachusetts. Oh, but they’re critically endangered, so maybe not.” She pauses again. “I did a project on whales in fourth grade. I did really well, although I think it was just because I used so much glitter. Like, the ocean was really sparkly. And now I’m an art major, so take that, Mom.”

A half-hearted chuckle is all that she can muster, but it will have to do. If she tanks Sara’s radio show … Well, it won’t be her fault, but it still would be unideal.

“So, anyway … Song time, I guess. This next one is a song which I didn’t know existed, but this school’s music catalogue is as sizeable as it is diverse. So here’s a Temper Trap cover of _Dancing In The Dark_ , just to remind Textbook Boy that I have literally no idea what I’m doing. Thanks, Textbook Boy.”

The song starts. The song plays. The song ends.

“Hi guys, my name’s Larissa and I’ve been covering for Sara for about twenty minutes. Ever since she went outside to sell some boy her textbook and never came back. Textbook Boy, if you’ve hurt Sara, I will find you and I will make sure you go to jail for a very long time. In the meantime, Textbook Boy, here’s a song just for you.”

She hits play on _Highway to Hell_ by AC/DC and slumps back in the chair. If she has to do this for much longer, she’s going to go mad.

Just then, the phone rings.

Larissa hadn’t actually known that there was a phone on this desk, but apparently there is. Buried under piles of magazines and slightly dusty, but there it is. She picks it up with a hesitant “Hello?”

A voice comes down the phone. A student, not a professor. Apparently, she hasn’t ruined Sara’s life yet. “Is that Larissa?” 

“It is. Who is this?”

There’s a pause. “Um … I think I’m Textbook Boy?”

Larissa sees red. “Where the fuck is Sara?”

Textbook Boy stumbles over himself trying to explain. “I swear I didn’t do anything to her! She forgot to bring her keys when she came outside. She was trying to phone you when I left but I guess you didn’t pick up?”

Larissa’s phone is on silent – studio rules. She pulls it out of her pocket and swears under her breath when she sees six missed calls. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Textbook Boy says. “Fuck. I’m really sorry. You’re doing a good job, though. My housemate has been listening and he’s a fan of the oldies shit you’ve been pumping out.”

Larissa rushes to defend herself. “I played the fucking Temper Trap, they’re cool.”

“You played their cover of _Dancing In The Dark_ , friend.”

“A classic.”

“An _oldie_.”

“Potato, potato.”

Then she looks at the monitor and almost has a heart attack. “Give me one second, dude.”

She pulls on the headphones and grabs the microphone. “Hi, guys. Mystery solved. Sara was locked out during her escapades with Textbook Boy. I’m going to go rescue her as soon as I bring the next funky tune. And apparently I play oldies, so here’s something new and shiny. From her 2008 album, here’s Taylor Swift’s _Love Story_.”

She turns the mic off again and picks up the phone receiver. “How’s that? New enough for you?”

“Love it. Now go prop the door and go get Sara, bud. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess,” Larissa says with a smile that she can’t quite stop. “See you around, Textbook Boy.”

“See you around, Larissa.”

She runs down the stairs, making sure to prop all doors on the way, and lets in a frenzied Sara. _Love Story_ is almost four minutes long, so they’ve got enough time for apologies and explanations and a kiss or three before Sara is back in her desk chair and Larissa is against the wall, fiddling around on her phone again.

* * *

**Larissa:** So tell me about Textbook Boy  
**Sara:** what do you want to know lol  
**Larissa:** Was he nice?  
**Sara:** haha i guess  
**Sara:** he said his teammate had locked himself in the library and he had to go rescue him before the kid had another panic attack  
**Sara:** seems like a good enough excuse  
**Larissa:** Yeah I guess  
**Larissa:** He seemed cool  
**Larissa:** Did you find out what team? I kinda want to apologize for what I said the other day.  
**Larissa:** Super not cool.  
**Sara:** i wanna say hockey  
**Sara:** do you want his number? you could just text  
**Larissa:** That would be sweet. Thanks, babe x  
**Sara:** any time  <3

* * *

**Larissa:** Hi Textbook Boy. It’s Larissa.  
**Larissa:** I got your number from Sara. I hope that’s OK.  
**Larissa:** I just wanted to say sorry for the other day. Highway To Hell was a bit extreme.  
**(617) 867-5309:** I accept your apology.  
**(617) 867-5309:** And my name’s Shitty.  
**Larissa:** LMAO no it’s not  
**(617) 867-5309:** You willing to put money on that?  
**Larissa:** Why is your name Shitty?  
**(617) 867-5309:** Long fucking story.  
**(617) 867-5309:** Do you want to get coffee and I can explain?  
**(617) 867-5309:** Fuck, sorry if that was overstepping.  
**Larissa:** Nah, man. All g.  
**Larissa:** Coffee sounds good.  
**(617) 867-5309:** Annie’s at 10 tomorrow?  
**Larissa:** Yeah, OK.  
**(617) 867-5309:** I’ll be the one with the moustache.  
**Larissa:** Of course you will.  
**Larissa:** I’ll be the short one in the overalls.  
**(617) 867-5309:** Of course you will.  
**(617) 867-5309:** See you then, Larissa.  
**Larissa:** See you, Shitty.  
**Larissa:** LMAO YOUR NAME IS RIDICULOUS  
**(617) 867-5309:** Sleep well, bud.  
**Larissa:** Not if you sleep well first.


	4. july 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'we grew up as neighbours and have always been best friends' au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a slight change of pace, shall we?

 

The first time that Larissa sees the boy, he’s sitting on his porch, kicking sullenly at the flowerbed with the toe of one shoe. She stands in her new driveway next to her dad’s car, doing her best to ignore Sammy in his car seat, banging on the window with one chubby fist.

She’s about to wave and say hello when the sound of stomping comes from inside the boy’s house.

“Oh, for – Please tell me you’re not scuffing those shoes too!” a sharp call comes from the hallway inside.  “Your grandma will be here in half an hour and you know what she’s like.”

“But Michelle said she’d take me to go see _The Parent Trap_ today!” the boy calls back.

“I said Michelle could take you to the movie if you behave at lunch, remember?”

“But Grandma’s the worst!”

Larissa’s eyes widen as the screen door flings open and a grumpy-looking man appears. “Byron, why aren’t you wearing the clothes your mother put on your bed?”

The boy – Byron – winces. “I don’t like wearing a tie! And the shirt is itchy and the pants are too long and it’s _hot_ , Dad. It’s summer, it’s not time for wearing hot clothes.”

“Byron Knight, you’re seven years old. You’re not a baby anymore. Come inside now, please.”

Larissa, who is newly six and proud of it, sticks out her bottom lip at that. She’s about to shout something to the mean man when her dad comes out of the house, takes one look at her and runs over. “Larissa, sweetheart, come and grab this bag for me? Your mama wants to get everything out of the car before we have lunch.”

“But Daddy, that man was –”

“It’s not nice to watch other people, OK, honey? Let’s get Sammy out and we can go inside. Do you want to see your new room? You don’t have to share anymore!”

Larissa does want to see her new room, and she does want to explore the new house and unpack her toys. So she sighs and opens the car door and pushes the button on Sammy’s seatbelt before pulling her backpack from under his seat. There’s time to meet Byron later.

She forgets about the grumpy boy and the grumpy dad when her mama finds their packed lunch and they get to eat it sitting on the floor in the dining room. Her parents take it in turns to try and get Sammy to stop crawling long enough to eat, and she laughs when he sneezes while drinking. Larissa is put in charge of watching Sammy while her parents fill the kitchen cabinets, and so she sits in front of the TV and they watch _Teletubbies_.

The boy has completely slipped her mind by the time she tiptoes from her new room and into her parents’ bed because everything in the new house is different.

“Different is OK, honey,” her mom assures her.

“I know,” Larissa whispers, trying to keep her thumb out of her mouth.

Her parents let her stay.

* * *

The second time that Larissa sees Byron, three days later, he’s lying in his front yard on his stomach, reading a book. Or he was at some point, but it now looks like he’s asleep. She had been sent outside to water the flowers, because it’s one of her chores now that she’s six, but carrying around the heavy watering can is boring.

She clomps over to the fence in her gumboots, peering over as best as she can, and waves to the boy. He doesn’t see her.

She sighs and drops her watering can in the garden bed, two small hands pulling her as tall as she can go. “Hi!”

The boy jerks and looks around, startled. “Oh. Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

Byron looks confused for a minute before pointing to his book. “Reading.”

“So why were your eyes closed?”

“They were not!”

“They were too! I came outside ages ago and you haven’t turned a page or anything.” A pause. “What are you reading?”  

The boy shrugs, then holds up the book so she can see the cover. She squints and slowly spells out the words, before “Oh, I love that one!”

Byron frowns. “You do?”

Larissa nods enthusiastically, talking at the top of her lungs as she walks down her drive and into his garden. “My mama first read it to me when I was five! I think Laura is my favorite – Mary is so boring and she never breaks any rules at all. And Carrie is just a little baby. Like Sammy. He can’t even walk yet!”

“Who is Sammy?”

“My little brother. He’s not even one year old.” She collapses onto the grass, sitting cross-legged across from Byron.

“That’s a little baby.”

“I know! He can only say, like, two words. He’s pretty cute, though.”

Byron pauses, like he has suddenly realized something. “Wait, how old are _you_?”

Larissa sits up proudly, as tall as she can. “I’m six and two months.”

Byron pulls a face. “Six is for babies. I’m seven and seven months. Almost eight years old.”

“Six is not for babies!” she screeches. “I’m going into the first grade when school starts!”

The boy reaches over and puts a hand over her mouth. Larissa licks him defiantly and he almost screams. “Don’t be so loud!” he implores. “My dad is working inside!”

“So?” Larissa’s dad works in an office, but when they get to go and visit him, they don’t have to be quiet. And there’s lots of people working inside _his_ office.

“So? So you have to be quiet! My mom said so. That’s why I’m reading and not having fun.”  

“We could have fun outside if you wanted.”

“I guess. But quiet fun isn’t fun at all.”

“You could come to my house. There’s still boxes but I know where my Legos are. Mama and Daddy helped me finish my room first, even before Sammy, because Sammy’s a baby and as long as he has a crib then he’s happy.”

Byron chews on his lip for a second, then grins. “OK. Just lemme ask my mom.” He stands up, then holds out a hand to pull Larissa off the ground. She stumbles, unsteady in her boots, then follows him up the drive and into his dark house.

“Mommy?” he calls quietly. “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen, honey.”

He grabs Larissa’s hand and pulls her down the hall and into a kitchen, where a friendly-looking woman is sitting at the table, flipping through a magazine.

“What’s up, kid?” Then she looks up. “Oh, hi! Who’s this, honey?”

Byron widens his eyes at Larissa, who quickly realizes that he doesn’t know her name. “Hello,” she says politely. “I’m Larissa Duan and I’m six.”

The woman smiles. “And where did you come from, Larissa Duan?”

“I just moved next door with my family.”

Byron’s mom’s smile gets wider. “Of course, I completely forgot. I’ve been meaning to come over and say hi to your parents but it’s been crazy with Byron’s daddy working from home. It’s lovely to meet you, Larissa. I’m Byron’s mommy, Donna.”

Larissa shakes Donna’s hand shyly. She’s secretly glad that Byron has one nice parent, because his dad seems really mean.

“Can we go play with Larissa’s Legos, Mom? I wanted to show her mine, but I know Dad’s in his office.”

“Of course you can! If that’s OK with Larissa’s parents, of course.”

Larissa nods quickly. “It’ll be fine, I know. My cousins used to live next door and they came over all the time.”

“Do you mind if I come say hello, too? I think I’ve got some cookies here.”

Larissa knows her parents love cookies, so she nods again and they all trek over to her place. Before she knows it, Donna is sitting at Larissa’s kitchen table with a lapful of Sammy, giving her mom tips on the best nearby stores.

Larissa grabs Byron’s hand and pulls him out of the room before her mom notices she’s gone. They go to work on her Legos, clicking them together until there’s no more space in the room, then knocking them down and starting again.

“So your name’s Larissa?” Byron asks her.

“Yeah. And yours is Byron. Do you want to be my friend?”

Byron smiles. “Yeah. OK.”

* * *

When Sammy is christened, Donna becomes his godmother. Byron takes his role as godbrother very seriously.

When Larissa graduates from elementary school, Byron is in the crowd. She's there for his first communion. He's there for her grandpa's funeral. She hides him when he fails a test for the first time. He hides her when Sammy becomes unbearable.

When Byron leaves for ninth grade at Andover, after living in each other's pockets for eight years, Larissa cries. He cries too, and hugs her tight, and promises that they’ll stay friends forever. They talk once a week. They email most days. He's her first Facebook friend. After all, she needs to make sure he’s not having too much fun without her.

When he gets into Samwell, Larissa applies there too.

When Larissa is made manager of the hockey team, Byron cries. He's called Shitty now, but some things never change.

 


	5. a very talented hat weaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “this guy won’t take a hint and leave me alone so i pointed at a random person (you) and told him that we were meeting up and you told him we’re married NOW WHAT IDIOT” au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what to tag the brandon fuckery. pls let me know if you can think of anything.

Larissa knows that she has people-pleasing tendencies, but this is getting ridiculous. Her professor has barely excused them before she feels the hand on her shoulder again.

“We should go get coffee,” Brandon murmurs in her ear. “Just the two of us.”

Larissa shrugs off his hand, forces a smile and turns back to her bag, shoving her laptop in as quickly as she can. The cord is still plugged into the wall, though, so she has to bend down to pull it out. When she stands up, he’s still there, watching her.

“What do you think? Have you got half an hour?”

Larissa frantically searches for an excuse, but she can’t up with anything more than “Sorry, I’m meeting someone now.” She knows that she should try and be more assertive, but she’s 5’1 and Brandon has got to be 6 foot even, if not more. He’s built like he’s on a sports team, big and muscly and intimidating.

She tries to push past him, but it’s a crowded lecture theatre and she quickly gets stuck in the throng of people waiting to walk down the stairs. As does Brandon, his breath on the back of her neck. She can’t even pull on her backpack for protection.

She’s finally able to push through the doors and, a minute later, run into the sun. She searches through her bag for her sunglasses and pushes them onto her face as best she can with shaking hands. Larissa leans against the building for a minute, searching for her cell in her bag so that she try and distract herself.

A shadow falls over her. When she looks up, Brandon is standing in front of her.

“I thought I lost you for a second there,” he says with a grin. Larissa isn’t sure if he’s terrible at picking up on social cues, or so sure of his own importance that he cannot fathom someone rejecting him. Somehow, she thinks it’s the second.

“Yeah, you did. As I said, I’m meeting someone,” she says, as strongly as she can.

“I’m sure they won’t mind if I tag along.”

 _No, because they don’t exist. But I mind._ She’s still hoping that he’ll lose interest eventually, so Larissa takes a deep breath and starts walking. She’s not entirely sure where she’s going, the campus still new to her after two weeks, but she’s definitely not going to lead Brandon straight to her dorm.

Brandon, apparently unaware of her discomfort, just keeps talking. “So, who are you meeting?”

Larissa, starting to panic, quickly tries to come up with an answer that he will accept. “Oh, a friend.”

“So reschedule! I’m sure they’ll understand.”

This motherfucker will not take no for an answer.

She decides that it’s time to kick the plan up a notch. “Oh, there he is now!” she says, pointing at a random man lying in the grass under a tree. He’s lounging in a way which suggests that he could be high, asleep or possibly dead, but she’s just praying that he’ll play along. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Nah, I’ll come. I’m always looking to meet new people.”

_Oh, for fuck’s –_

She hurries over to the man and sits down next to him, nudging him with her toe.

He opens his eyes lazily, blinking in the sun. “Can I help you?”

“That guy walking over now followed me from my lecture and he won’t leave me alone,” she whispers hurriedly. “Please just play along?”

The man’s eyes widen and he immediately sits up, slinging an arm over her shoulder as Brandon comes over to them. “How was your class, babe?”

Larissa tries to settle under his arm as best she can, smiling up at him. “Yeah, you know. It’s only the second week so we’re still going over the basics. But it’s all interesting.”

Brandon stands over them and the man looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Can we help you?”

“I’m a friend of Larissa’s from class,” he says, sitting down on the grass in front of them. “Who are you?”

The man holds out his hand and shakes Brandon’s. Larissa has to suppress a smile when she sees Brandon wince. “Shitty Knight, man. Pleased to meet you. Larissa’s husband.”

Larissa bites her lip, trying not to burst out laughing. For some reason, she feels inordinately safe under this stranger’s arm. _Shitty’s_ arm. Christ alive.

“Her _husband_?” Brandon looks like he’s just had his tiny mind blown. “Didn’t you just say that you were meeting a friend?”

“Babe, please tell me you’re not embarrassed about telling people we got married so young?” Shitty retracts his arm and turns so he’s facing her, expression playfully devastated. “I love you so goddamn much.”

Larissa finally lets herself laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. If he’s going to help her, she’s going to play along to the best of her abilities. “Oh my God, you loser. I love you too. I just – there’s so much stigma attached to being married young. Most people don’t understand our ways.”

“Your _ways_?” Brandon asks, trying to follow.

Shitty nods. “Yeah, you know. We’re Amish. Live fast, marry young.”

Larissa wants to cry laughing. She settles for holding Shitty’s hand and smiling widely at Brandon instead.

“You don’t look Amish,” Brandon says, looking between them slowly.

“How _dare_ you?” Shitty shrieks. “Just because she’s Asian –”

Larissa is going to die.

“Dude, I didn’t say anything about her being Asian!”

“I’ll have you know that Larissa here was one of the best butter churners in our district.”

“Oh, darling,” Larissa says with the straightest face she can manage. “You’re so modest. I guess that’s why I married you.” She turns to Brandon. “My husband here is a champion carriage racer. And a very talented hat weaver. The widest brims in all of the county.”

Next to her, Shitty immediately has a coughing fit.

She turns back to him and strokes his hair gently. “My love, I hope you’re not coming down with scarlet fever. I know we’re living away from the farm but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you use those newfangled medicines. I’ve got some apple cider vinegar in my bag, if the worst should happen.”

Shitty bites his lip and bumps her with his shoulder. “Thank you, wife of mine. I hope that this won’t turn fatal, like it did for poor Melchior during Rumspringa.”

“He shouldn’t have bathed nude in the fountain at Caesar’s Palace,” she tells him seriously. “Las Vegas is the devil’s city.”

Brandon looks between them quickly, like he can’t quite tell if they’re fucking with him. Eventually, he clearly decides that his best option is to make a hasty retreat.

“OK. Well. Bye, Larissa. I’ll see you in class?”

“If my husband lets me attend,” she says with a smile. “He knows what’s best for me.”

“I bought her for twenty cows,” Shitty tells Brandon. “A true bargain for such a fine childbearer.”

Brandon jumps to his feet, waves awkwardly and runs off, pulling his cell out of his pocket as he goes.

Larissa grins and lies down in the grass, relieved. “Fuck. Thanks, dude. I owe you one.”

Shitty lies down next to her, head-butting her gently. “You don’t owe me anything, man. Sorry he was such a dick. And sorry I said you could be bought for twenty cows.”

“Sorry I said you were going to die of scarlet fever.”

He snorts. “I forgive you.”

“I forgive you too.”

They lie in the grass for a minute, watching the clouds. Shitty looks like he’s about to fall asleep before he gets a text and jumps to his feet. “Fuck, I’m late.”

Larissa looks at her watch lazily. “What are you late for at 4:45?”

He smiles ruefully. “My bro was made captain of the hockey team and he wanted to have a team meeting today before dinner. I think we’re going over plays or something?”

“Sounds boring,” Larissa says honestly.

“You wanna come?” Shitty asks. “The meeting’s just in our house so it should be pretty quick, and then a few of us are ordering pizza and watching shitty TV.”

Larissa thinks about it for a second before heaving herself off the ground with a groan. “Why the fuck not?”

“That’s the attitude!” Shitty says with a grin. “First team meeting, dude. Welcome to the family.”


	6. lucretia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘we share a class at university and you forgot your notebook under your desk but luckily your number’s written inside. Ps: your doodles are pretty cool’ au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some jack pov because i haven’t written him for too long.

“OK, but you don’t understand. She’s so pretty.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

“No, like, _so_ pretty.”

Jack glances over at Shitty, who is lying face-down on Jack’s bed while Jack studies at his desk. “I gathered.”

“And, like, she’s amazing in other ways,” Shitty continues dreamily, oblivious to the fact that Jack immediately turns back to his reading. “She sits there and, like, takes notes. For the _entire_ class. Jack, she pays attention for literally two whole hours. Who does that?”

“That’s wild,” Jack says dryly, not taking his eyes off his book.

“And she takes notes by hand. Did I say that she takes her notes _by hand_? That’s some stamina, bro. I mean, fuckin’ Elle Woods was using a laptop in 2001. And this girl is just sitting there, working her wrist muscles for two hours. Fuckin’ superstar.”

“Wow.”

“And she’s just … Wow. She’s got, like, really pretty hair. And her face is … wow. And her clothes? Amazing. Like, she wore overalls today and she looked … fuckin’ smokin’. I can’t even explain it. She could wear, like, leggings and an oversized t-shirt and she’d look like she just got off a catwalk.”

“My mom walked catwalks in leggings in the 80s,” Jack mutters.

“And I bet this girl looked as good as your mom did in the 80s,” Shitty laughs. “She just … She’s, like, pretty _and_ smart, you know? She doesn’t really talk in class, but I just _know_. She just gives off a smart vibe.”

“I’m sure she’s smart, bud,” Jack reassures him. “She’s at Samwell.”

“Yeah,” Shitty sighs happily. “She’s pretty and smart and we’re going to have really beautiful babies.”

“And what’s the name of the future Mrs Knight?”

“I don’t know,” Shitty says slowly, the two brownies and six-pack finally working their way through his system. “But she won’t change her name. Fuck the patriarchy.”

Jack grins and glances over, but Shitty has already closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, he’s fast asleep.

Jack tries to disapprove but it doesn’t stop him from climbing gently over Shitty as he gets into bed and covering them both with his blankets.

* * *

“Morning, darling.”

Jack doesn’t have the chance to open his eyes before he feels chapped lips pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Get the fuck off of me,” he mutters, slapping out a hand and making contact with what he very much hopes is an arm.

“Oh, Jacky,” Shitty tuts. “You know that when we have snuggle sleepovers, I get to wake you in whichever way I choose.”

“I always wake up before you,” Jack points out, rubbing at his eyes blearily. He can’t see his clock over Shitty’s shoulder but his alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so it’s not time to get up yet.

“So I’ve never had the chance to use this right before. I think that means I get three kisses. Like in Poland.”

Shitty smacks a loud kiss to each of Jack’s cheeks, then pulls back grinning. Jack shoves at him, and Shitty wobbles before falling unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Too early, Jack Zimmermann! It is too early!”

“You woke me up, _connard_.”

Shitty does his best to bat his eyelids through the sleep encrusted in the corners of his eyes. “Don’t you _connard_ me, you charming fucker. You know I can’t resist you when you speak French.”

“I’ll bet you can,” Jack mutters.

“I really can’t” is all the warning he gets before Shitty is, once more, in bed. He burrows under the covers, swivels around and spoons himself up against Jack, sighing happily.

“Do you mind?”

“Not really.”

Jack lies there carefully, trying to resist creating a comfortable place for Shitty to lie. Shitty clearly gives zero fucks, aggressively nestling his head under Jack’s chin. When Jack shoves a finger into Shitty’s ear, he just squirms happily. “Oh, Jack. You do care.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me anyway.”

Jack snorts and pushes him out of bed again, then clambers out of bed to search for his sweatpants. He strips out of his boxers and gets dressed quickly, turning around to raise his eyebrows at Shitty’s wolf whistle. “Why are we friends?”

“Because I appreciate every aspect of you, bro. Wait, are you going to the rink? It’s fuckin’ 7:30 on a Sunday.”

“I’ve got it booked for 8:00 but I’ve got a key, so I might just go over early.”

“You work too hard, dude,” Shitty tells him seriously.

“Interesting,” Jack says absentmindedly, pulling on his socks. “You want to come?”

Shitty sighs heavily. “May as well. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“You’re a gift.”

Ten minutes later, they’re walking towards the rink, chewing on grainy protein bars. Shitty complains profusely but they’re good enough for now. They always end up heading to the dining hall when they’re done anyway.

After a minute of silence, Jack decides to address the elephant in the room. “So, what are you going to do about this girl?”

A beat. “Which girl?”

Jack snorts. “The one that you told me about for fifteen minutes last night? She’s, like, so pretty and her hair is amazing and she takes notes by hand?”

“Christ alive,” Shitty says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dude, you need to ignore me when I’ve had that much to drink. You know that.”

“So you’re not interested?” Jack’s never heard Shitty talk about anyone like that before.

“I don’t know … If we’re talking about the same person, she’s cute. But, you know, freshman. Plus, we’ve never spoken. I’m sure she’s cool but … I don’t know her at all. And I don’t get off on objectifying people, you know that.”

“I’m pretty sure High Shitty’s in love with her, bud.”

“High Shitty’s a fuckwit.”

* * *

> **Shitty Knight:** JACK  
>  **Shitty Knight:** I NEED YOU  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** What?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** THE GIRL  
>  **Shitty Knight:** YOU KNOW THE GIRL?  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** I know the girl.  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** What?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** SHE LEFT HER NOTEBOOK IN CLASS TODAY  
>  **Shitty Knight:** AND I PICKED IT UP  
>  **Shitty Knight:** AND SHE MUST BE AN ARTIST  
>  **Shitty Knight:** SHE’S SO TALENTED  
>  **Shitty Knight:** YOU SHOULD SEE THE SHIT SHE’S DRAWN ON HERE  
>  **Shitty Knight:** I LOVE HER  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Are you high?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** LMAO MAYBE A LIL BIT  
>  **Shitty Knight:** srsly tho she’s so talented  
>  **Shitty Knight:** and her name’s l. duan **  
> Shitty Knight:** what’s the coolest name that starts with l? **  
> Jack Zimmermann:** Lynette  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Lizette  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Lavender  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Lorna  
>  **Shitty Knight:** ur precisely no help  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Lucretia  
>  **Shitty Knight:** anyway her number’s in the book i need to text her smth cool and witty  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Good luck with that.  
>  **Shitty Knight:** HELP ME  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Go ask one of the frogs  
>  **Shitty Knight:** you’re precisely the worst  
>  **Shitty Knight:** ur lucky I love you  
>  **Jack Zimmermann:** Go get em, tiger

* * *

Jack’s lying on his bed listening to a podcast, trying to work out if he’s got enough time to go for a decent run before dinner, when Shitty barges into his room and kneels next to the bed.

“Can I help you?”

Shitty answers by shoving his phone into Jack’s face. Jack blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the screen two inches from his eyes, but can’t quite manage it. “What, Shits?”

“I need you to read these texts, please.”

“What texts?”

“I texted the girl about her notebook. L Duan. And she’s cute and funny and I can’t tell if she’s interested. Help me!”

Jack rolls his eyes, but lovingly. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to someone else about this? I’m hardly a love expert. Go try Justin, he’s got them following him for miles.”

Shitty pouts. “I don’t want to talk to Ransom, I want to talk to you. I trust _you_ , Jacky.”

“And I’m deeply honored, but I really don’t know if I can –”

“Oh, for fuck’s –” Shitty presses the phone into his hand, then sits back on his heels nervously.

Jack sighs and starts reading.

> **Shitty Knight:** Hi  
>  **Shitty Knight:** I found ur notebook  
>  **Shitty Knight:** The one with the drawings on the cover  
>  **Shitty Knight:** Your number’s in the front  
>  **Shitty Knight:** That’s how I have it **  
> L. Duan:** OH THANK FUCK  
>  **L. Duan:** I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT EVERYWHENRE  
>  **L. Duan:** EVERYWHERE  
>  **Shitty Knight:** You can stop panicking  
>  **Shitty Knight:** I mean, you don’t have it yet so u can keep panicking too  
>  **L. Duan:** LMAO  
>  **L. Duan:** Wait are you in my intro to lit class? I think that’s where I left it anyway. Which one are you?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** oh fuck sorry lol  
>  **Shitty Knight:** I’m Shitty Knight. The dude with the moustache?  
>  **L. Duan:** TOTALLY  
>  **L. Duan:** You’re the one with opinions on everything  
>  **L. Duan:** ahahahahahaha we were wondering what ur name was  
>  **L. Duan:** Somehow I wouldn’t have guessed shitty  
>  **Shitty Knight:** Well it WAS the sixth most popular boys name in 1991  
>  **L. Duan:** and yet somehow I’ve never met another one???? boston must be less trendy than i thought  
>  **Shitty Knight:** SUP NEIGHBOUR  
>  **L. Duan:** No fuckin way  
>  **L. Duan:** I like how we all escaped but then only got half an hour away  
>  **Shitty Knight:** yeah awks

Jack gives Shitty a look. “Does this get back on topic at any point?”

Shitty shrugs. “I don’t know, we were just chatting. Does it sound promising?”

“Promising how?”

“Does she sound interested? Romantic styles?”

“Yeah, I guess. She hasn’t asked for her notebook back yet, so that’s a sign that she wants to keep talking.”

“Totally, right?”

Jack hasn’t ever seen Shitty this invested in anyone. It’s all kinds of adorable.

“So anyway, we talk about stuff for a while and then –” He grabs the phone back and scrolls down for a while, then hands it back to Jack. “This is the bit I really need your thoughts on.”

> **Shitty Knight:** so I guess I should probs get ur notebook back to u at some point  
>  **L. Duan:** oh yeah  
>  **L. Duan:** i almost forgot about that

“OK. That’s a good sign.”

“I know!”

> **L. Duan:** ummmm it’d be sweet if i could get it back before class next week, it’s got all sorts of stuff  
>  **Shitty Knight:** yeah totally  
>  **Shitty Knight:** name a time  
>  **L. Duan:** i’ve been craving froyo  
>  **L. Duan:** two birds one stone?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** fuck yes  
>  **L. Duan:** 6:30?  
>  **Shitty Knight:** tonight?  
>  **L. Duan:** lol  
>  **L. Duan:** yeah, dude  
>  **L. Duan:** if you don’t have plans  
>  **Shitty Knight:** nah, sounds sweet

“Shits, it’s 6:10. You need to go.”

“I fuckin’ know!” Shitty moans. “But is it a date? What do I wear?”

Jack takes in Shitty’s ancient Converse, Spice Girls t-shirt and acid-wash cutoffs. “You’re fine, dude. She knows what you look like.”

“You’re precisely zero help.”

“Go! You’re going to be late.”

Shitty throws his arms up, lets out an inhuman screech and barrels into his room, coming back a few seconds later with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He stands in Jack’s room for long enough that Jack looks up and asks, “What?”

“Come with me?”

“Are you serious?”

“Please!”

Jack sighs but immediately gets up to pull on his shoes. They jog down the stairs and out onto the road, where the last of the summer sunshine is still streaming through the trees.

“So, what are you going to say?”

Shitty shrugs. “No fuckin’ idea, dude.”

“Cool.”

A few minutes later, they arrive at the froyo place. Shitty literally pulls Jack behind a tree, trying seemingly not to hyperventilate. “There she is!”

Jack peers around the tree and sees a short girl sitting at a table under an umbrella, headphones in and messing around on her phone. “OK, so go!”

“Oh my God. Fuck.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Shits. Jesus. It’s game time.”

Jack gives Shitty another ten seconds and then shoves him out from behind the tree. The girl looks up, startled, and then smiles widely.

“You’re fine, dude. Go.”

Shitty winks at him and then walks over to where L. Duan is sitting.

He doesn’t come home for three hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://murrayhewitt.tumblr.com) if you so desire.


End file.
